


Shore Leave

by eerian_sadow



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Drunkenness, Fluff, Only One Bed, alcohol use, only one hotel room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:27:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23486056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eerian_sadow/pseuds/eerian_sadow
Summary: The Lost Light is docked for repairs and everyone is getting a bit of shore leave. Reluctantly, in Ratchet's case.
Relationships: pre-Drift/Ratchet
Comments: 2
Kudos: 65





	Shore Leave

**Author's Note:**

> originally this was supposed to be a fill for the March round of Dratchet Party on Twitter. But that was about the time that things REALLY started ramping up for Covid-19 panic/preparedness and work stress and exhaustion and a near-constant migraine for a week tanked my productivity. It got finished a bit later during a livewriting session, and so I share it now.

When the command staff decided to allow shore leave on the mechanical friendly planet while the Lost Light was docked in orbit for repairs, Ratchet had considered staying on the ship and enjoying the quiet. His plans changed rapidly, though, when it became apparent that part of the repairs included patching the hull immediately outside every single room he sat down in and he took the last shuttle to the planet, with Perceptor and an eerily quiet Brainstorm for company.

He blamed the fact that he ended up in a high class bar on the fact that he just wanted _away_ from whatever insane idea Brainstorm was cooking up. Hopefully, Perceptor would keep him contained. Meanwhile, Ratchet would enjoy his expensive enegex and pretend he had no idea that anything might be wrong.

He ignored the press of bodies around him, some mechanical and most organic, as he made his way to the bar and ordered his first drink. Once it was in hand, he stepped away from the bar and found a table large enough for his frame and settled in. He considered reading the medical journal stashed in his subspace as he sipped his drink, but he quickly found himself people watching instead.

The natives of this planet were tall, willowy beings that swayed with the air currents in ways that defied physics as he understood them, and they were almost hypnotic to watch. Especially after the rush of overcharge hit his systems and he went from trying to study how their biology might work, just in case he ever had one as a patient, to committing their swaying movements to memory.

After about two groons, there were four empty glasses on his table that he didn’t remember ordering, he had recorded enough footage of the native species (and several others) for the xenobiologists to study for at least an Earth year, and exhaustion was starting to catch up with him. With a soft sigh, he decided it would be best if he made his way back to one of the shuttles and had them take him back to the ship.

After four drinks as strong as he’d been having, he would have no trouble sleeping through the noise of repairs. 

Carefully, Ratchet stood and pulled a few shanix out of his subspace. It took him longer than he liked to count out the correct amount for his drinks and enough to tip the sweet little organic who had been fluttering around his table with drink refills, and he reluctantly admitted to himself that it might not be a good idea to go back to the ship after all.

Especially if he had to try and pilot one of the shuttles himself.

He caught sight of the server, fluttering over a nearby table with a drink tray, and waved them over. Once they set the tray down, they crossed the distance between them with a bright smile. “How can I help you?”

“Can you give me the directions for the nearest hotel?” He was proud that he didn’t mangle their language despite his overcharge. Either he had had far more energex than he remembered or the bartender had mixed his drinks with something stronger than he was used to on the ship. “Or a hostel, if that’s all there is.”

“Oh, there is a lovely hotel just up the street that is rated to accommodate mechanical lifeforms. Simply turn right as you exit the pub and walk two blocks down the street.”

“Thank you.” The organic clearly had experience with overcharged mechs, given how clear they had made the instructions. He held out the stack of shanix he had counted out. “Where should I leave this?”

“On the table, thank you. I will collect it shortly and return with your change.”

“No, keep the change as a tip for your services.” Not every culture appreciated tips, but he had been in enough bars, pubs and cantinas over the years to know that almost every server still _needed_ them. “Giving directions isn’t part of your job.”

The server’s wings stopped fluttering for a moment in surprise, then they smiled more brightly. “Thank you, sir! Have a pleasant rest!”

“Thanks.” Carefully, Ratchet turned away from the small organic and made his way across the room. Somehow, he managed not to step on anyone smaller than himself, trip over any tentacles or do more than ruffle fur as he weaved through the crowd. 

He turned right once he stepped out onto the sidewalk, and realized he could actually see the building that had to be the hotel. It was taller than everything around them, with large tinted windows and the sort of standardized architecture that had become recognizable at hotels all over the galaxy. Still moving carefully, he walked toward the building.

Half a block from his destination, a familiar white and red racer pulled up to the curb in front of the hotel and transformed. Drift turned to him with a small smile and waited for him to walk the remaining distance. 

“Enjoying your shore leave, Ratchet?” Drift pitched his voice so that it wouldn’t irritate sensors suffering from overcharge and Ratchet realized the consideration was as endearing as it was aggravating. 

He didn’t need to be fussed over, he was just overcharged. “It’s been fine so far, but Brainstorm and Perceptor left together.”

“Primus protect us.” Drift laughed. “Either they’ll finally work things out or they’ll blow up the planet.”

“As long as they blow it up _after_ the repairs are finished. I have things I should be doing right now.”

“Things like _resting_ and enjoying a bit of vacation.” Drift looped his arm through Ratchet’s before the medic could protest and led him to the entrance of the hotel. “You deserve time off as much as the rest of us.”

“And I was trying to have some, until the noise drove me out. Do you know how loud some of those drills are?” He let Drift hold him steady as they walked to the check-in counter. He wanted to protest the weakness, but Ratchet had to admit to himself--silently and under pain of death if anyone found out--that it was nice to let the other mech support him. 

“Well, they are designed for use in vacuum.” Drift didn’t let go as he stopped at the check-in counter. “Two singles, Cybertronian class mechanical. In room showers if possible, please.”

The clerk, one of the willowy locals that had mesmerized Ratchet at the bar, bobbed their head slightly. Then they tapped on a keyboard for a moment and looked up apologetically. “Forgive me noble mechanicals, but we have only one room in that classification remaining.”

“It’s fine.” Ratchet started to pull away. He could just go back to the ship after all. “You can have it.”

“It’s not fine for you to go back to the Lost Light alone.” Drift grabbed his wrist as Ratchet pulled away, and refused to let go. “If we can get an extra recharge cot, one room will be fine.”

“You don’t have to babysit me, Drift. I can manage to get back to the ship.”

“Maybe, maybe not. I’ll feel better if you recharge in a real bed down here, though.” Drift looked at him with a mischievous grin. “Besides, you can’t be a worse roommate than Whirl.”

“Oh there’s a story that I want to hear once I’ve had time to sober up.” Ratchet sighed and stopped trying to pull away from the racer. “Fine, I’ll stay. We can argue about the bed later.”

“I will ensure that the noble mechanicals have an additional recharge cot.” The clerk’s expression shifted subtly and they looked happier. “May I please record your names?”

\------------

“This is… bigger than I was expecting.” Drift looked around the room as the door closed behind them.

“It’s bigger than my entire suite on the Lost Light!” Ratchet stared for a few moments before hsi gaze fell on the recharge bed. It was large enough to fit Ultra Magnus, twice. “And if they’re charging you extra for that cot, you should send it back. We can fit on that thing with room for First Aid and Ambulon.”

“We can,” Drift agreed. “But you should take it and I’ll use the cot.” 

“I didn’t really mean it when I said we could fight over the bed, Drift.” Ratchet crossed his arms and frowned, but the way he swayed on his feet contradicted any real anger he might have conveyed. “But you’re not recharging on a cot when my entire medical department can fit in that bed.”

Drift sighed. “Fine. i’m going to go wash off this dirt first. You can go get comfortable.”

Ratchet nodded and started making his way to the recharge bed. It was covered in inviting plush padding and soft looking blankets and his weariness hadn’t abated during the elevator ride or his brief banter with Drift. “That might be the best idea I’ve heard all day. I’ll enjoy the hot water after I wake up, whenever that is.”

“Well, we have three days of shore leave left, so you’ll have plenty of time.”The racer turned toward a door that had clearly been designed to be unnoticed unless you were looking for it, and stepped into the washroom a few moments later.

As the automated door slid closed behind the other mech, Ratchet made his way to the bed. It was as soft as it had looked when he climbed up onto it, blanket fuzz tickling his knees slightly as he sank into the padding. It felt wonderful as he slid across it to lay down, and the room was warm enough that he didn’t bother trying to crawl underneath the blanket.

He was just starting to slide into recharge when he heard the click of a cot being quietly set up. “Drift.”

“I didn’t want to wake you!” 

“Do not make me get up and drag you over here.” He didn’t know if he could carry through on the threat, his systems were still sliding into recharge protocols and his vision was a little fuzzy when he opened his optic shutters to glare at the other mech, but _Drift_ didn’t know that. “You paid for this berth, so you had better come enjoy it.”

“All right, all right.” Drift clicked the last of the cot’s legs into place before setting it on the floor. Then he walked to the berth and climbed in. Ratchet watched him until he had settled, and then he closed his optic shutters again. “Recharge well, Ratchet.”

“G’night, Drift.” As consciousness slipped away, Ratchet felt fingers lace themselves with his, but he didn’t have the energy left to see if Drift was actually holding his hand or if he was imagining it.

Either way, it was nice.


End file.
